


While You Bloom

by motherofmercury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Albus-centric, Alternate Universe, Bisexual Character, Florists, Flower meanings, Fluffy, M/M, Miscommunication, Muggles, Scorbus, awkward boys, florist albus, non CC compliant, only natural magic here, teacher albus, they're just downright adorable really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-04 09:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20468651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofmercury/pseuds/motherofmercury
Summary: Albus co-owns a little corner florist with his best friend, Io, who claims she has discovered the perfect boy for Albus.  Naturally, Albus is sceptical at best, but when S. H. Malfoy walks into their shop, Albus realises he may have seriously underestimated his friend.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ladderofyears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/gifts).

> There's a second part coming tomorrow, I just have a little more revising to do but I really wanted to get this out for scorbus fest! Hope you enjoy and big thanks to my friend Rem for beta reading xx
> 
> This fic is dedicated to Ladderofyears because I inspire you, you inspire me, it only seems right <3

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon and Albus had given himself permission to just potter around in his garden for a few hours. Albus was finding recently that having a slightly more rigid structure to his days made him feel like facing the world wasn’t quite such a terrifying prospect, anymore. Also, who knew an actual sleep schedule could make you more productive?!

He brushed a curl of dark hair out of his eyes with the back of his wrist. Albus was always careful to avoid touching his face when he wore gardening gloves, but he could still sometimes be spotted with a smear of dirt across his cheek. It wasn’t that he was a messy gardener; he just had a habit of getting lost in his work. Being outside in the crisp October air with his hands in the dirt was grounding. And sometimes Albus really needed a little grounding. 

Gardening had always been Albus’ first passion, but teaching ran a very close second. Mr. Potter taught at the local primary school and was renowned for his famous hugs. The kids had also decided that Mr. Potter looked very _sofa-stick-cated_ with the fairly thick beard he’d grown recently. Albus hadn’t been sure about keeping the beard, but as long as he didn’t look like a creep he thought it was probably okay. Teaching had given Albus purpose in the few years since he’d left school – he was going on twenty-four next March – and purpose very much suited him. Obviously teaching took up most of his time during the term, but in the holidays Albus helped run the cute little corner florist with his friend and co-owner, Io. Albus had learnt quickly that Io didn’t have a green drop of blood in her body, so Albus’ ample garden had become the main contributor to stock the shop, as well as the little garden out the back of the actual building. He had staked his claim over that tiny little plot almost the moment he’d seen it. There was so much potential in a plot like that, and Albus knew exactly how to bring it out.

The sky was darkening rapidly so Albus pulled off his gloves and brushed a hand over his beard. He stood up with a small grunt and picked up his hand shovel, dusting dirt off his jeans. Albus headed into the little cottage he’d bought last year, locking the wide glass doors behind himself. During the day the cottage was very light and airy, but at night the pale yellow curtains held in more warmth than one would expect. He drew these curtains and preheated the oven, picking up his phone to call Io. She’d promised she’d come over for dinner but she wasn’t always the most reliable at remembering things like that. He was about to dial when the phone in his hand started ringing.

“Io, hey, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, hi, Al! I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry! I’m just running a little late at the shop because this young man wants a very specific arrangement for his mother, what a sweet boy! His mother is the luckiest woman in the world! Actually, Al-” she lowered her voice dramatically and Albus rolled his eyes as he pictured her covering the receiver with a dark hand and going into the back room. “He’s just your type, you know, a little younger maybe, but with sharp cheekbones and this striking white blonde hair-”

“And how do you even know what my type is, hmm?”

“Come on, Al, it’s been two years! I know which ones you eye up at the bar. Plus, remember you never told me you were gay! I figured that one out on my own!”

“I’m not exactly subtle about it, Io.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not that obvious about it either! God, I thought you were just a pleasantly feminist straight dude for the loooongest time! Oh how mistaken I was. You are a very gay pleasantly feminist dude.”

Albus chuckled in the back of his throat. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But really it’s just your shoddy gaydar that’s at fault here. A more truly useless bisexual of the worst variety, I have never met.”

“I take offence. I’m only half gay so my gaydar isn’t fully formed.”

“You do realise you’re more offensive to yourself than I am to you?” He chuckled again, “you can get that arrangement done and then get your arse over here and describe this boy who is probably not actually my type to me over carbonara.”

“Being offensive to oneself is just a gay rite of passage.”

“It is not.”

“Wait, DID YOU SAY YOU’RE MAKING CARBONARA?! Albus Potter I truly love you with all of my heart and I will be there just as soon as humanly possible!”

Albus heard some mumbling on the other end of the line and laughed out loud. The poor blonde boy would be so confused. Io was a master at arranging beautiful bouquets in record time though, she’d probably make it to his in about twenty minutes. Perfect. Albus grabbed the pasta out of the pantry and set about preparing his dad’s famous carbonara sauce.

Exactly twenty-one minutes and fifty-four seconds later, Io was seated at his breakfast bar, inhaling the aroma of the pasta sauce. If you were being pedantic, of course. Which Albus was not. He obviously wasn’t counting, he just liked to be right.

“Mmm, I’ve been looking forward to this all week!”

“Io, I only told you I’m making carbonara twenty-two minutes ago.” Albus laughed at his friend as she flipped her black braided hair over her shoulder.

“Well, your cooking is always amazing. Just like your gardening. I don’t know how you do it, Al, I’m so useless at everything.”

“Hey,” he turned on her, gesticulating with serving spoon in hand, “your paintings are phenomenal. I could never do that. We all have things that we’re useless at,” he paused for a moment and eyed Io. “Just no one else makes their career out of those things. You, my friend, are an anomaly.”

“Just the way I like it.”

Albus let out a laugh and passed her a plate of pasta and creamy carbonara sauce. “So, tell me about this boy who is probably not my type and definitely twelve years old.”

“Oi, I never said how old he was!” Io dug her fork into her pasta and twirled it around a bit. “He’s at least twenty-two, I’d say, but probably closer to your age.”

Albus rolled his eyes at Io, but let her describe his mysterious grey-blue eyes and excitable but slightly awkward nature. 

“I didn’t get a chance to get his name, but the bank statement said S. H. Malfoy.”

Albus’ eyes widened and he gave a shocked laugh, eyeing Io appreciatively. “You really are a stalker, you know that?”

“Am not, I just wanted to give you the best chance possible.” She smiled innocently at him from across the table. Albus reached across to top up her glass of pinot noir, giving himself an extra slosh as well.

“S. Malfoy. Sounds… French?”

“That’s what I thought, but you’re more cultured than me.”

Albus snorted, “hardly! You know Lily’s the cultured one in my family.”

Albus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at Io as the girl went dreamy eyed, a foolish smile appearing on her face. 

“My God, you are still in love with my baby sister.”

Io snapped her eyes onto Albus and gave him a ferocious glare. “I am not _in love_ with Lily, she is just an extremely attractive and very, _very_ talented human.”

Albus did roll his eyes this time, “just ask her out, Io, it’s not that hard.”

“No, no, no, I couldn’t do that. Besides, I’d be breaking the bro code.” She seemed to shrink in on herself a little bit.

“I think we’re mature enough to not need the ‘bro code’ as you so eloquently put it. I’m literally giving you permission. And if you try anything, Lils can sure look after herself.” Albus rubbed his jaw ruefully in remembrance of many a childhood brawl.

“We’re talking about you though,” Io skilfully evaded the implication of Albus’ comments and continued; “what are you going to do about Mr. S. Malfoy?” Her eyes twinkled across the table at him.

“What am I going to do about him?” Albus chuckled and leaned back in his chair, “you make him sound like a disease. If I see him and I like him, I’ll probably say hello.” He eyed her pointedly.

It was Io’s turn to roll her eyes and she did so with many dramatics. “Fiiiiiine, I see your point. If you get a date with the kid, I’ll _say hello_ to Lily.”

“Deal.” Albus stuck out his hand to shake on it, already regretting his easy agreement. What if he really liked this blonde boy? Albus was not the most eloquent when it came to people he actually liked; he had an unfortunate tendency to shut down and avoid contact of any kind. And Io had been right (not that he was going to tell her that), this boy sounded _exactly_ like Albus’ type. 

Albus went to bed that night with a disconcerted feeling. _Well, _he tried to reassure himself, _at least if it all goes wrong I can run away to America and claim to be visiting James._ It wasn’t the best backup plan ever, but it would have to do.


	2. Part Two

The next day was a Saturday, so Albus could spend all morning in his garden if he wanted to. It was nearing midday when Albus knelt back and wiped the sweat from his brow with a sleeve. He pulled off a glove and tucked it into his back pocket, brushing some dirt from his beard. He was never entirely sure how it got there, but it did, so. A glance at his watch told him he needed to tidy himself up a little bit and take that lot of freesias down to the shop.

Carefully, Albus gathered up his bundle of freesias. He wrapped the severed stems in damp tissue paper and then place the whole bundle in a bucket so it couldn’t drip everywhere. Io hated it when Albus’ flowers made everything damp. Albus left the bucket of freesias in the back room and came through to the shop to say hello to Io.

“Al!” Io turned at the sound of his footsteps, abandoning the half-formed arrangement she was balancing on the counter. “The freesias?”

Albus hiked a thumb over his shoulder, “in the back room.”

“Brilliant! I’ve been needing a restock for a while now.”

“What, an hour?”

“Oi.” Io glared at him, making him chuckle. “Anyway, can you watch the counter for an hour? I have a couple of arrangements in the back room that need finishing immediately.”

Albus pulled his gardening gloves out of his back pocket and tucked them into his belt instead. “Sure, counts as overtime, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Write it in the book and I’ll tally it up later.” Io collected up the flowers and ribbons she had scattered across the counter and made her way to the backroom.

Albus smiled at her retreating back. He settled himself behind the counter and set to shaping the small bonsai tree they kept as an attempt to prove Io could keep some form of plant alive. So far it was looking okay, but she neglected to prune it. It would get much too large for their tiny corner shop if it wasn’t pruned on a semi-regular basis. Thus, Albus surreptitiously pruned it as often as he could. Io wanted to look after it by herself, but really Albus was just taking a precaution.

The bell above the door tinkling out caused Albus to look up as a young man walked in. Blonde hair, eyes somewhere between ice and smoke, cheekbones that could slice brick. Albus was transfixed by this person. Surely this was S. H. Malfoy.

The young man did an awkward little wave as he came over, causing Albus to realise he was just blatantly staring. Albus coughed, clearing his throat. Heat burned through his skin, washing over his face and into his ears. 

“How can I help you?” He grunted, then winced at how surly he sounded.

“Where’s Io?” he looked around the shop as if she would materialise among the flowers. “Is she alright?”

Albus smiled softly at this boy’s endearing concern. “She’s fine! She has a few arrangements to finish out the back.”

“Do you normally work here? Wait, what kind of question is that?! I’m sure you do! I’ve just never seen you before, which is weird because I come here a lot! Wait, sorry, I’m talking too much, I’m sorry, I’ll-”

“Mister Malfoy!” Albus cut off his awkwardly babbled tirade and smiled at him, amused. Something was definitely wrong with Albus’ heart. It was fluttering and he couldn’t quite breathe because the beating pattern was all wrong and Al could still feel the blood pounding in his cheeks. He cleared his throat again and said, “I grow the flowers and Io arranges them and does most of the stuff here. We co-own the shop and-”

“H- how do you know my name?”

“I- oh,” Albus felt even more blood rush into his face, if that was even possible. “Io was going through the bank statements and you’re the only person we don’t really know, so...” he trailed off.

“Oh,” the fleeting concern was quickly replaced by a sunshine-filled smile. “Well, yes. Malfoy. Quite. Actually my first name is Scorpius, but you probably don’t care, anyway, flowers. I’m here for flowers.”

“Mine is Albus,” he smiled beatifically, “my name, that is.” He took a moment to bask in the sunshine this young man had trailed into the little florist shop.

“Albus.” Scorpius Malfoy smiled back at him; a grin so wide Heaven could shine through.

Albus never stood a chance. This was his person.

“So, um,” Albus coughed yet again, trying to still his foolish heart. “Flowers?”

“Flowers?” Scorpius sounded a little dazed, much how Albus felt. “Yes! Flowers! Um, can I please have a bouquet of alstromeria with a spray of white and lavender heather?”

Albus quickly visualised the pages of those flowers in the Victorian flower book Io had given him for Christmas last year. He read the cursive in his mind’s eye, trying to decide if Scorpius knew the message he was conveying, or was just choosing the flowers for their beauty. Or maybe both. _Alstromeria: wealth, prosperity, fortune. _Teaching had certainly enhanced his memory for useless information. _White heather: protection, fulfilment of wishes. Lavender heather: admiration, solitude, beauty._

“Alstromeria,” Albus mused, writing the instructions down, “no one’s asked for those in a while, but they’re beautiful.” He glanced up at Scorpius briefly, mumbling under his breath, “almost as much as you.”

“Pardon?” Scorpius leaned towards him, an adorable frown crinkling his brow.

Albus almost melted on the spot, but managed to stop himself, feeling the blood in his face spread down his neck and turn him completely tomato.

“Hmm? Nothing, um, can I help you with anything else?”

“Um,” Scorpius’ frown deepened for a moment and Albus bit his lip as those ice and smoke eyes anxiously flickered around the shop. “Can I also get a separate bouquet of ranunculus, bird of paradise, and forget me not, please?”

Albus looked up sharply at this combination, noticing the sun through the window glinting golden off the boy’s pale hair. The anxiousness infused in his expression made him look so young.

_Ranunculus: radiant charm, anticipation. Bird of Paradise: anticipation, excitement. Forget me Not- _well, that one was obvious. Anticipation and excitement? Did this boy know what he was telling Albus? He felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach at the implications of this bouquet. Scorpius H. Malfoy already had a significant other. Probably a girlfriend. Oh, God, why had Albus thought Scorpius would be into him? Idiot.

Albus scribbled down the second lot of instructions under the first, mood rapidly dampening. “Is that all?” He asked abruptly.

Scorpius glanced at him worriedly, unsure what the change in Albus’ mood meant. “Is that okay? If the flowers are too hard to get I can choose something else-”

“No, it’s fine. Io will call you when your arrangements are ready.”

“Okay,” Scorpius shifted nervously. “Okay, thanks... thanks.” He shuffled backwards a step and then turned abruptly, hurrying out of the door with enough speed and force to leave the bell tinkling violently.

So much for his perfect person. Albus felt quite sour after that encounter. His wonderful mood had been entirely shattered by those three flowers. He let out a bitter laugh and shook his head at himself. Why hope? He couldn't even rely on his flowers to be true. This was turning into a truly awful day.

Albus trailed through the next week, trying to find joy in the little things. The children he worked with; a good strong cup of earl grey; Io; his flowers. Although he couldn't shake the notion that his flowers were somehow tainted now. All too soon it was Saturday again and Albus once more had to take some flowers down to the shop for Io. 

Down the street at the florist, the back door opened soundlessly and Albus eased himself in, trying not to creak the floorboards. He could hear Io's cheery voice floating through the shop as she chatted with a customer. Albus decided to risk it and go through into the shop to do a little clearing up of some of the wilted, unbought flowers left in the stands. 

He froze over one of the stands with his back to the counter when he heard the all-too-familiar voice that replied to Io.

“Yes, that's right. Small sunflowers, blue hyacinth, and aster.”

“What a lovely combination! Oh, here's the bouquet you ordered last week.”

Albus scowled at the dying flowers he was gathering. Sunflower was adoration and dedication, blue hyacinth was constancy, and aster was patience, change, and elegance. Obviously this one was for the boy's stupid significant other. The stupid girlfriend.

“Thank you! It's beautiful!”

“Is this one for your mother too?”

Albus chanced a look over his shoulder and saw Io handing the second bouquet S. H. Malfoy had ordered last week to him. His scowl deepened. 

“No, actually, I...”

Albus stopped what he was doing, feeling eyes on his back.

“These were for Albus, actually.”

Albus choked on his own spit – ungraceful human that he was – and spun around, spluttering and coughing. “What?!”

“Yeah, I- here.” Scorpius shoved the flowers into Albus' hands and spun on his heels, hurrying out of the shop like last week.

All Albus could do was stand there in astounded shock as Io's surprised laughter mingled with the tinkling of the bell following Scorpius out the door.

Albus stared at the flowers in his hands, not comprehending. Io waved a hand in front of his face. She called out his name repeatedly until he blinked and looked up at her. “Wha-”

“He likes you! I knew it, Al, I was right!”

“Io,” Albus began slowly, inspecting the flowers in his hands. “What is happening?” He asked flatly. Albus glanced back up at Io with his piercing green eyes and his friend could see the confusion and a small flicker of hope somewhere in their vibrant depths.

Io came around the counter to him and grabbed his free hand in both of hers, jumping up and down like a child. Albus had to let himself smile at the sight; her innocent excitement was so like the children he taught at the local school.

“He likes you!”

“But- what? Does he even know what these flowers mean?”

“Oh, yeah!” Io let go of his hand and did a little twirl. “He was telling me all about the meanings of the flowers he bought for his mother!”

“So, he knows.” Albus could only stare disbelieving at the flowers he was still holding. Surely he was dreaming? How was he supposed to process this? A week of horrible defeat and crushed hope and now here he stood with Scorpius’ flowers in his hands. Hope bubbled up in his chest once more, making his heart flutter like it had last Saturday. “He likes me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Io sang.

Albus let the grin slip onto his face, radiant as Scorpius’ hair in the sun.

Two days later, Albus came back from work to find a new bouquet of flowers on his front steps and a small card. He grinned as he scooped up the flowers; these were the ones Scorpius had ordered last Saturday. Patience and constancy and whatnot. He picked up the cared and his heart sank a little at the sight of Io’s handwriting.

_ Scorpius came back and asked me to deliver these to you!_

_ Io_

The hope picked itself back up off the floor and soared into Albus’ throat with happiness. It was looking like Albus had a chance to be the boy’s stupid significant other after all. At least, he desperately hoped that was what Scorpius meant.

That weekend Albus begged Io to let him watch the counter for her while she worked out the back. Of course Io acquiesced, smirking knowingly all the while. Albus was shuffling around nervously, rehearsing things to say to Scorpius under his breath.

“Thanks for the flowers, I like them. No, you fool, say what you mean. Just ask him out, it’s not that hard!”

“What’s not that hard?” Came curious voice from the door.

Albus jerked his head up in shock, he must have missed the sound of the bell in his anxiety. “Ah, nothing. It’s stupid. How can I help you?” Albus stared at the young man. Of course it was Scorpius who had walked in on Albus’ not so internal dilemma. 

Scorpius flushed slightly and looked away from Albus, avoiding his gaze. “I, Uh- can I please, um,” suddenly he looked up and locked eyes with Albus. Smoke and ice locked with moss and emerald. “Can I please have a single tulip?”

“A tulip?” Albus wanted to smack his face against the counter at the way his voice cracked.

_Tulip: a declaration of love._

Scorpius was beet-red by this point and went back to avoiding Albus’ gaze and stuttering. “Yes, I- I, uh, yes, a tulip, please? Please. Yes.”

“Scorpius.” Albus leaned across the counter a little.

The boy was forced to look back at Albus by his proximity. “Albus?”

“Do you know the meaning of the flowers you’ve been buying?” Albus was intent on knowing for sure.

“I- Yes, of course! A tulip is a declaration of- of um,” his eyes were wide.

“Scorpius, do you want- uh, I mean would you like to get dinner with me?” Albus cleared his throat and averted his eyes, not wanting to see Scorpius’ thoughts on his face.

Scorpius made a choked noise and Albus looked back at him anxiously, fearing the worst.

“No? Okay, that’s okay, don’t worry about it, I didn’t mean-”

“Albus!” Scorpius cut him off. “I- I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Albus flushed at his unnecessary apology, but managed to smile timidly at Scorpius. “Oh. Okay.”

“I’ll uh- pick you up at 7?”

“Yeah, okay. Sure.”

Scorpius smiled and gave a little wave, awkwardly turning to leave in his confusion at how to end this moment.

“Oh, your tulip!” Albus grabbed one off the stand and hurried around the counter, hand outstretched.

“It’s- it’s for you, Albus.” Scorpius smiled and pushed Albus’ hand, with the tulip, back at the man who had just asked him to dinner.

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Scorpius’ hand was cool on Albus’ warm skin, the flower slightly damp between his fingers. Much too soon the fleeting touch was gone and then so was Scorpius. But there was no squashing down the fizzing excitement and joy that threatened to spill out as Albus clutched the single tulip in his hands.

Three weeks later Scorpius sat on the back porch of Albus’ house, watching him potter around his garden and just basking in the sun.

“Are you sure you’re not bored?” Albus asked anxiously for the fourth time.

“Of course not. I- I like watching you.” He smiled at Albus before standing up and walking over to the other man. Scorpius knelt down next to Albus on the dirt and brushed a little out of Albus’ beard with a soft hand. He ran his thumb across Albus’ lips before pressing a soft kiss there.

Albus’ breath hitched at the contact of Scorpius’ lips, cool as his hands, on his own warm lips. 

Scorpius pulled back too soon. “Besides,” he said, “you really bloom among your flowers.” He grinned. “So I’ll just sit here and admire you while you bloom.”


End file.
